


Shadows Past

by Goldfish01



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24436612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldfish01/pseuds/Goldfish01
Summary: In a world where Solas managed to bring down the veil, Dorian sees no other choice than to go back in time and stop it from happening.Killing a god is however not an easy task which leaves him with few options.This is a dark story so please mind the tags, they will be updated with each chapter as needed.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Solas
Comments: 39
Kudos: 93





	1. Prologue

It was thought that the removal of the veil would bring immediate destruction and chaos upon Thedas. Scholars argued that the fade and Thedas had changed too much while separated and couldn’t possible exist together again while the fearful masses envisioned great waves of death that would sweep the land and kill everything in its path. The shattering of the veil was however rather anticlimactic. 

He could still remember with clarity the hum of power that made his skin tingle followed by the sudden increase of magic in the air. He remembered the feeling of the rough stones that made up the wall he’d braced himself against and spike of fear in those first few moments when he’d been certain it would all end. The days that followed were a shadow of a memory in comparison where those stationed at the inquisition hideout he was at were frantically trying to gather information about the changes. 

There was a slight increase in both spirit and demon activity but other than that the only noteworthy changes seemed to be how much more magic was available for spellcasting. Looking back Dorian was sure there was not a single moment he’d ever been more woefully naive. 

As days turned into weeks it became apparent that it wasn’t just the mages that could draw upon that power, it was everyone. Those that had previously been oppressed by the rich and powerful now had the means to fight. It was an all out open war where the dream of a brighter future quickly became overshadowed by vengeance and a hunger for power. The streets were bathed in blood as the upper class was overthrown and friends turned on each other due to greed and paranoia afterwards. The horrors he’d seen during the fight against Corypheus paled in comparison to the atrocities committed in years that followed. 

Dorian had spent much of the time since in hiding trying to forget what once was and mourning the death of too many. The sting of Bull’s betrayal had lessened by that time and now it was easier to think of early mornings together without the accompanying feeling of self-loathing and doubt. His few run-ins with other people had not left him with good memories and while the cold of loneliness gnawed at him it seemed preferable. When the idea for a solution came to him he wept into the crisp morning air. 

It seemed so simple that he couldn’t fathom how it didn’t occur to him sooner. Once he and Gereon had created the means to bend time itself and while the amulet was destroyed the work that made it possible was done by his own mind. It took a few hopeful weeks to recreate the spell and many dismayed tries over the next months to attune it to the missing veil. The only focus point that was finally within his grasp was when the spell had last been used, during his travel back in time with Inquisitor Lavellan in Redcliffe. 

It didn’t give him the chance to stop the breach from happening but he might be able to stop Solas from tearing the world apart. The main problem with that objective was that he had no idea how powerful Solas really was at that point or if the god masquerading as a hermit apostate could even be stopped by physical means. The only logical plan left was to either convince him to not remove the veil or trick him into not doing it somehow. The thought made Dorian want to cry.


	2. Arrival

When the world stabilized and Dorian appeared in the throne room of Redcliffe castle together with the inquisitor he was vaguely aware of Lavellan talking to his former mentor while he stood staring at his own shaking hands. The scars that had marked the hands of his older self were gone and the unblemished skin of privileged youth was all that remained. When he’d begun the motions for the spell he still wasn’t sure if he’d appear as he did at the time or if he’d replace his younger self in the timeline but he was glad it turned out to be the former. While he’d prepared an answer for why he’d suddenly aged by a decade, a time travel mishap couldn’t explain his many scars without him having lived those years as well.

Dorian’s thoughts were brought to a halt by someone touching his arm and when he glanced up from his hands he saw the inquisitor looking at him with a slight frown. Taking in the room he was shocked to find Gereon and Felix were gone and he turned his focus back on the inquisitor who’s frown had taken on a more sympathetic nature.

He managed to a quiet “what?” almost at the same time as the inquisitor asked “Are you alright Dorian? You’re really pale”.  
“I, yes.” he answered with what he hoped was a smile. She didn’t seem very convinced so he added “it’s a lot to process.”

She nodded in a way that Dorian had come to learn meant she was unconvinced but thankfully dropped the subject when the king’s men came marching into the room. He stood silent and watched history repeated itself as the mages became allies of the inquisition and the king unknowingly exiled his own mother. Dorian had initially dismissed the fact when he’d first heard it as a tactic to make the king seem more sympathetic to the elven population. However the news of how she’s cried over her son’s mutilated body when he’d refused to abandon his people gave it a lot of credence. Apparently being a beloved war hero will only get you so far.

He briefly considered saying something but anything he said at this point would feel hollow and revealing that he knew secrets about a royal line would earn him more scrutiny then wise, not to mention that his claims would most likely be outright denied. Thankfully Solas was not present to witness his uncharacteristic behaviour and Dorian was glad that he’d have a chance to collect himself before seeing the elf again.

* * *

During the journey to Haven he managed to get back into the carefree mindset he’d once had and laughed along with Varric’s jokes and stories. They’d both ended up in the back of the party while Lavellan and Cassandra rode ahead. He couldn’t help but look at the pair in front and compare them to the memory of their older selves. Cassandra had not changed much, she was still as certain of her role in the world then as she was now but without the added wisdom that came with age. Then again she had died before the revolution broke out.

Lavellan however was harder to recognise. Her face still had the markings of her people on her brow and her brown hair was kept in the long braid down her back that Dorian had come to associate with the woman. She’d cut it off with one of her daggers in a fit of rage while trying to braid it after her arm was taken and it now felt surreal to see her so full of life again.

His thoughts were interrupted by Varric saying “See something you like?” in a teasing manner. Dorian was momentarily confused before he remembered that this Varric wasn’t aware of his preferences and shook his head slightly and said “They’re both impressive women, but not my type I’m afraid”.

“Oh?” Varric said in a lowered voice. “I’m personally quite fond of impressive” he continued. Dorian just gave him a pointed look and stated “It is not the impressive part that doesn’t work for me”. He could tell Varric was surprised by the way is eyebrows raised slightly before he covered it up with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows and slyly commenting “Guess I didn’t imagine you checking out Curly then”.

Despite himself Dorian found that the ends of his mouth curled into a smile and a slight chuckle. Even when their friendship had been strengthened over years of chess and looking out for their spirited inquisitor, Dorian could objectively see that the commander was a handsome man. He simply didn’t come to think of him as a potential lover.

* * *

Approaching Haven was not quite as he remembered it. The village appeared more cramped and chaotic with people going about their day as well as they could with the soldiers hanging around the tents in smaller groups. It was jarring to see the soldiers that had mostly been made up of farmers and lacked the discipline of trained troops that he’s come to associate with the inquisition’s armed forces. Although at this point in time the inquisition wasn’t truly born.

A crowd was waiting for them they dismounted and he struggled to keep his temper as Solas greeted them with a sweeping cursory glance before fixing his attention on Lavellan. Dorian had to turn towards his horse and start to rummage through his saddle bags to quell his trembling hands. How dare he dismiss them!? His actions had doomed them all and now they weren’t worth more than a fleeting look.

Dorian was aware that his anger was unproportional to anyone else as those things had yet to happen. As he opted to lead his horse to the stable himself instead of handing the reins to the waiting stablehand he was sure he must stand out but it was all he could do not to turn on the elf then and there. In the aftermath of the veil’s disappearance Solas hardly showed himself. There were rumours of him going into Uthenera again and rumours of him living in a golden temple being worshipped as a god. No rumour could be proven true but the fact remained that he did not intervene as the fighting continued on. Either he was incapable, enjoyed the blood flowing or simply didn’t care about the people he supposedly wanted to save.

Once in the stable and out of sight of the crowd he handed over the reins to the closest person and headed out through the opposite door. Removed from the situation he felt his hot anger drain away only to be replaced by stinging tears as he found himself lost as how to continue. Taking a moment to breathe deeply and gather his thoughts he started walking in the direction of his cabin only to turn towards the chantry when he recalled that he hadn’t actually been assigned a cabin yet.

While he hadn’t had any qualms about exploring the village in the original timeline the thought of doing so now turned his stomach. He didn’t want to see the faces of all those who wouldn’t make it when Corypheus attacked. It had been on his mind how he could change the events to save as many as possible but no matter how he turned and twisted the problem in his mind no satisfying solution could be found.

If he showed too much knowledge of enemy troops he would earn the tender attentions of the spymaster and the truth of how he gained such knowledge would earn him the same from Solas, if he wasn’t outright killed. The only thing left was to make small suggestions and actions that seemed to simply work based on chance and hope that he could lessen the suffering of someone.

He’d seen the inquisitor and Cassandra walk inside the chantry on his way over and he stopped just outside the entrance to seemingly inspect the murals that adorned the wall. Partly to give the argument inside time to get started before he entered but also to bolster his own confidence. Once he’s been able to saunter into any situation with a smirk to cover his true feelings but now he was out of practice and keenly aware of how much depended on it.

He didn’t stand a chance of influencing Solas if he wasn’t part of the inner circle, and getting them to trust him would be a lot harder if it seemed like he’d changed personalities over night. For now he had the experience of the future in Redcliffe to fall back on but with time they would question why he was unable to put it behind him.

The meeting in the war room went like it had the first time and Dorian sauntered in just like he’d at at that time as well. It wasn’t until Lavellan asked him why he wanted to join the inquisition that he found himself deviating from his recreation of the conversation. Looking straight at her he said as clearly as he could “I saw a future of broken people in a broken world. It cannot be allowed to come to pass. If you are willing to fight the madness I would be honored to fight beside you.”. And thus Dorian Pavus joined the Inquisition for the second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What we've had so far is Dorian retelling things that have happened from his point of view but we are going to see some graphic flashbacks in the coming chapters. 
> 
> You've also probably figured it out by now but this slow burn is truly slow.


	3. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags/warnings.  
> I added the tag blood and gore for this chapter just to be safe.

The rest of the day passed slowly for Dorian who’d headed straight for his cabin after the meeting in the war room was done. In his first timeline he and Solas had seen each other quite often in Haven as their cabins were both close to each other and close to the apothecary, and now Dorian wasn’t sure if that was a boon or not.  
  
On a logical level he was perfectly aware that he’d have to actually spend time with the man in order to have any chance of either convincing or deceiving him into not removing the veil. However a more instinctual part of him wanted to run as far away as he could and now he sat on his bed dreading to go outside in case they’d run into each other.  
  
The courage that had made him face countless foes with smile seemed to have abandoned him and he was having a hard time to find a solid reason for why he had to face Solas today. Surely the elf would get suspicious if he sauntered up to him tonight, after all why would a handsome Tevinter suddenly take an interest in a wandering apostate? They didn’t know each other yet. And surely nothing bad would happen if he simply didn’t speak to said apostate today or even tomorrow? Yes, it was better to wait for a more opportune moment.  
  
As he tried to convince himself that it was logic and not his own fear that made up his reasoning he couldn’t help but feel slightly nauseous and it occurred to him that he hadn’t eaten anything since the last meal on the road. He’d grown used to eating less and ignoring the occasional pangs of hunger while on the run but his younger body never had and reacted strongly to the sudden lack of food. 

While the darkness of night had begun to creep upon Haven it was still early enough in the evening that the tavern should be open, and while Dorian prefered to say hidden in his cabin he couldn’t make himself do so with food so close by. 

Taking a few deep breaths he stood up and headed towards the door. If Solas was outside he’d simply nod to him, or pretend he didn’t see him if possible, and hurry towards the tavern. The apostate had rarely visited the tavern before and there was a high chance he wouldn’t be there now. Opening the door he was relieved to see that Solas was nowhere in sight and made his way towards the tavern in slightly better spirits. 

His good mood soon disappeared as he discovered that for once Varric wasn’t in the establishment and there was no one else around he should know. Ordering a meal from Flissa with his best smile and a few coppers he found a quiet table in the feeling where he could see the door and the few patrons present. He couldn’t shake the notion that something was off though and while he made sure to look adequately grateful as Flissa brought out his meal he found that he wasn’t as hungry as he initially thought.  
  
Taking a few slow bites of the warm stew he realised with a sinking feeling that it was too quiet. He hadn’t given the Iron Bull much thought since arriving in this timeline, too preoccupied with Solas and the fate of the world to give his once lover any consideration, but now it seemed glaringly obvious that it wasn’t just the qunari that was missing. He had not seen a single charger since arriving in Haven earlier that day. 

The more he thought about it the more he could feel the panic claw at his throat. He couldn’t remember if the chargers had been in Haven or not when he arrived the first time around. Looking around at the other patrons he realised most seemed foreign to him aside from a few individuals. With a queasy feeling he forced himself to keep taking small bites of the food while wondering if he had broken the world. Could this be a different timeline then his own? Was that even possible? Could he truly have forgotten the faces of those he had fought and lived side by side with?  
  
Forcing the last of the stew down he gave a shaky smile to Flissa and quickly made his way outside while fearing that the ground would disappear beneath him. Turning towards the safety of his cabin he caught sight of a few merchants making the way towards the chantry and stopped in his tracks when he saw a blonde woman with a familiar lace collar.

* * *

_\--Flashback--_

  
Having mostly kept to the safety of the woods it was with both relief and dread that the two of them spotted the telltale signs of a town closeby. Dorian had been travelling with Camille for a few weeks now and he could tell that she longed for civilisation. She had been a noble merchant’s daughter before the disappearance of the veil and had never been far from her village on the outskirts of Orlais. 

She had fled while the villagers looted their mansion and had spent two days wandering around in the woods before Dorian came across her. He was aware of the glances she kept sending him and while he supposed she was rather pretty there was no way he could give her what she hoped for. As it was now he had however found that having someone to travel with made it easier to make sense of the world and as such he’d grown rather fond of her. 

“How about we head into the town and stock up on some supplies” he asked with a smile. Camille looked longingly in the direction of the town as she smoothed the white lace collar that she took great pride in keeping clean. “Are you sure it’s safe?” she answered and looked at him with her clear blue eyes and continued “I’m not very good at defending myself”. 

They hadn’t run into much fighting but from what he’d seen he definitely agreed with her. She was a timid girl who’d simply raised her hands to cover her face when a small group of bandits had set upon them. If Dorian hadn’t managed to fire off a spell just in time at one who’d been ready to slice her open it would have been the end of their acquaintance. 

Given her a confident smile he said “It’s early in the day and I doubt there’s anything a bunch villagers can do against a trained Altus”. When she still looked uncertain he added “Did I ever tell you I’m an enchanter of the Minrathous Circle?” and held out his hand for her to take. As her face broke into a smile she said with a slight giggle “Well if you’re sure” and took his hand.  
  
Entering the town they’d come across few townsfolk. The ones that saw them gave them suspicious glances but quickly decided that they wanted nothing to do with them. Drawing closer to the town’s market square Dorian was displeased to see that there were no stalls up. They had however passed a handful of open shops along the way and it spoke in favour of finding one selling travelling gear. Gesturing to Camille to stay close he headed down on the larger streets that connected to the square with her a step behind.  
  
They hadn’t made it more than a few meters down the street before a gang jumped on them. Dorian quickly put up a shield over the two of them and threw fire at the closest assailant while dragging Camille by the arm towards the open square. While the magical talent of those who had never known magic before the removal of the veil truly were not much compared to a trained mage there were more of them then first appeared and no matter in which direction he looked there were no street that they didn’t block.  
  
Making his way towards what he hoped was the road that led to the town’s gate he shouted at Camille to stay close and sent down a chain lightning at the group who blocked the exit and was pleased to see enough of them fall to create a gap they could run through. What he didn’t expect was a townsman with a large club hitting his shield with full strength to his right. The shield wobbled but held strong but Camille who’d seen the hit coming instinctively stopped running with him and took a step back. Placing her outside of the shield.  
  
Dorian didn’t have time to react before he heard her scream and when he turned around she’d been thrown to the ground. Cursing he made a quick decision and dropped his shield to put more power into the horror he sent at the men standing above her. If he could only reach her he could put up a barrier around them both again and drag her out of there if needed. The men who had been afflicted by the horror had backed away but there were other bandits next to them who took their place. 

The same man who wielded the club kneeled down on Camille’s chest and took a hold of her dress at the collar to rip it open at the same time as Dorian’s arm was grabbed and he was pulled sideways. Taking his eyes of his companion he turned and fired off another chain lightning in the direction of the ones now trying to get him to the ground. As he staggered but ultimately stayed upright he heard an angered roar coming from the man assaulting Camille.  
  
It seemed like she’d managed to summon fire and send it upwards, straight towards the man’s face. Closing the short distance between them Dorian gathered his mana to put up a shield around her when something hard and heavy knocked him to the ground face first. It knocked the breath out of his lungs and disrupted the spell, and he watched in dazed horror as the club smashed into Camille’s face. 

She screamed as blood flowed down her face and towards the ground, wetting the stones and creating growing lines of red on her collar. He tried to summon something, anything to help her, but he’d quickly been pinned down by several men and while he struggled to cast the man brought down the club over and over again until she had stopped screaming and it was clear that she was already dead.  
  
Someone dragged his head up by his hair and Dorian’s last glimpse of Camille was with her pristine collar soaked in blood and her face unrecognisable.

_\--End of flashback--_

* * *

  
Dorian felt like the ground had indeed disappeared below him and his nausea was back stronger than ever. This couldn’t be happening, she was never supposed to have been here. As he stared at the woman she turned her head towards the tavern and he realised it wasn’t her. It was just some merchant with similar hair and a white collar. 

As the woman looked at him Dorian turned around and fled in the direction of his cabin. Weaving through the pathways connecting everything in the village he found himself unable to tell one cabin apart from the other in the evening. Without his own cabin in sight he made his way to the closest one as dark spots danced within his vision. Finding the wall of the cabin with his hands he ended up leaning on it before dropping down to his knees and vomiting in the snow. 

Having thrown up his dinner he continued to heave until nothing but bitter liquid came up and then leaning back against cabin wall sobbing with his hands in his hair and eyes closed. Sitting there he went rigid when a quiet male voice asked “Are you hurt?” close to him. Shaking his head Dorian opened his eyes to find himself face to face with Solas. 


	4. Aftermath

Solas was crouched on the ground with his hands casually resting on his knees, close enough that if he wanted Dorian could have touched him. Once the initial shock was passed at suddenly finding himself face to face with another person he immediately glanced around and felt a spike of fear when realised they were alone.

Had Solas found out? Was he here to kill him? The thought should have been terrifying and yet he found himself simply resigned. Lowering his hands to let them fall to the ground he let his head fall back to rest against the wall. Solas however didn’t move aside from a slight frown and Dorian found himself asking in a hoarse voice “Why are you here?”.  
  
“You’re outside of my cabin. I thought you might need help” Solas answered calmly. Unable to form a reply he simply said “Oh”. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to move Solas slowly extended his right hand palm up and asked “Would you like to go inside?”. 

Staring at it for a moment Dorian hesitantly took his hand and couldn’t help but notice how warm it was. Despite essentially holding hands with his nemesis he didn’t let go after Solas had helped him to his feet and instead ended up clutching the elf’s hand with both hands while looking the bone necklace that he had once teased Solas about.  
  
Noticing that the man’s other hand reached for his face Dorian was unnerved when he never felt it touch him. Looking down at his own hands clutching Solas he was surprised to see that his hold on the mage was a lot stronger than he thought but before he could ease his grip he heard Solas say “May I?”.  
  
Not knowing what he was referring to Dorian nodded anyway and shortly after felt the cooling touch of healing magic flow down his body. Letting out a sigh he felt his headache disappear along with a tension he had barely noticed from his neck and shoulders. Feeling a lot calmer he loosened his grip but didn’t let go and found himself led by his hands inside Solas cabin.

For some reason he had assumed Solas asked if he wanted to go inside his own place but as he found himself direction into a chair by the small table in the room he realised that Solas wouldn’t have known which cabin was Dorian’s. Letting go of his hand in favour of touching some of the documents spread out over the surface of the table he slowly traced along what he assumed was ancient elvhen scripture. The letters were more flowing than both Tevene and Common with curved lines all over that he let his finger follow.

In what seemed to be a moment shortly after a cup of something was placed in front of him and the documents were gathered up by Solas. “You should drink the tea. It will help” he told Dorian while placing the texts on a bookshelf. Carefully lifting the cup Dorian took a small sip and welcomed the familiar taste of elfroot. Taking a few more sips he set the cup down while trying to find the right words.  
  
“I… it...” he began but was unable to put together his jumbled thoughts into speakable words. Apparently Solas took pity on him and and softly asked “What happened?”.

He wanted to tell him everything and for the charade to be over. He wanted to be free of his thoughts but all that he managed to put together was “She was there but it wasn’t her”. Hearing no reply from Solas he continued “I should have known. I killed her”.  
  
Taking a few shaking sips of the tea to get rid of the lump in his throat he watched the elf sit down on the floor by his side he said “I didn’t mean for it to happen”. Solas looked perplexed but kept silent and Dorian wanted him to understand. “In the future. We wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me” he managed to get out.  
  
He was relieved to see the understanding dawn on Solas face and whispered “It was my fault”. Instead of the response he expected Solas just put a hand on Dorian’s knee and said “Da’len, you are not responsible for the actions of others”. Unable to comprehend what was happening Dorian shook his head and put his own hand on top of Solas as he continued with “You couldn’t have known what would happen”.  
  
Dorian just shook his head again and looked at the hand he had once again trapped as his vision was growing watery. Sitting there he startled as he felt Solas touch his shoulder and heard him say “You managed to return here. Without you we would all be lost”. Solas was standing on his knees by him and with one hand raised it was all too easy for Dorian to slip down on his knees himself and bury his face in the crook of his neck.  
  
Solas seemed frozen for a few heartbeats before he cautiously embraced him and whispered “Oh da’len” as Dorian began to sobb into his collar. Nothing seemed to make sense at that moment and whatever he was trying to say got lost in his own crying. All that existed were the fingers running through his hair and the murmured words he couldn’t make out. 

He wasn’t sure how it had happened but once he calmed down he found himself sitting in Solas lap on the bed. He had his arms around him and was stroking his hair as Dorian leaned against him. Feeling himself doze off but not yet willing to deal with the fade he whispered “Will you tell me about the people here?”. Solas hummed and started talking in a low voice about what he’d learned about the villagers. As he shared stories about the orphans who flitted about Haven during the day, how he was certain that Flissa secretly enjoyed the liveliness that came with the Chargers spending their nights at the tavern and his observations about his neighboring potion maker Dorian slowly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a pretty short chapter but it was also the most difficult one to write so far. Dorian might seem like he's acting very out of character in this chapter but I wanted the fact that he is traumatised to come across in a way that might be realistic and he is experiencing symptoms that aren't uncommon for someone with ptsd. I have however taken some artistic license as I'm not an expert on the subject.  
> Don't worry though, we will see moments of Dorian being is usual charming self soon enough. 
> 
> Next up is Solas POV.


	5. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events in previous chapter but from Solas point of view.

Solas was frustrated to find that another book he’d borrowed from the chantry was proving to be wildly inaccurate. He’d spent the evening taking notes on practices that stood out to him but what he really wanted was information on what knowledge was considered common, and in extension what capabilities he couldn’t reveal without seeming like he knew too much for his background. 

The book has seemed promising at first, talking about some basic ways of treating minor wounds but as soon as he came across more complex issues the treatments were ineffective at best and directly harmful at worst. He wasn’t surprised to see that none of the so called treatments used magic but it frustrated him nonetheless to see just how much had been lost with time.

Putting the book down he briefly considered setting it on fire before he heard a noise coming from outside his cabin. Tilting his head and listening he heard the faint sound of retching and gathered that it was probably a drunk patron having gotten lost on their way home from the tavern. Judging by how low the candle was burning he guessed it must have gotten pretty late. 

With a sigh he stood up and went over to place the book by the smaller bookshelf by the door, aiming to return it to the chantry in the morning. As he returned to gather the notes he heard muffled sobs through the wall and faltered. Clearly whoever was outside was quite distressed. 

He didn’t want to get involved more than necessary with the locals but it seemed more logical to investigate rather than to ignore it. He glanced at his staff but ultimately decided to leave it behind as he didn’t want to appear more threatening than he had to. If it turned out to be a trap he was hardly defenseless without it.

Making his way outside he was surprised when he turned the corner and saw the Tevinter mage sitting on the ground, sobbing into his hands. It painted such a contrasting image compared to the self-assured noble they’d first come across in Redcliffe that Solas found himself moving forward without much thought.

Facing the conundrum he crouched down on the balls of his feet and hands in front of him, ready to attack if needed. Not receiving a reaction he studied the human and found no signs of a fight or injury, and being too curious to continue waiting much longer he asked in a soft voice “Are you hurt?”.  
  
The startled reaction he received told him he’d truly gone unnoticed before and he watched as the mage stilled before making a slight motion that could have indicated a no. Watching as a nervous gaze seemed to flit around the area he became even more intrigued when the fear he’d seen gave way to lowered hands and a bared throat. Was it a ploy for him to attack? An offering? 

As he contemplated how to continue the human said in a broken voice “Why are you here?”. Going for the pragmatic response he answered “You’re outside my cabin. I thought you might need help” and received a quiet “Oh” in return. He didn’t sense anyone nearby but never knowing who might be listening he wished for the safety of the wards placed on his cabin.  
  
When it became apparent that the mage wasn’t going to move he slowly, as to not startle, extended his right hand in an invitation and asked “Would you like to go inside?”. 

As a hand was placed in his he immediately noticed that the fingers were ice cold and as he got them both standing he ended up with two frozen hands wrapped around his. The Tevinter appeared to be in some sort of shock and didn’t lift his eyes as Solas raised his free hand to cast a subtle spell to see if there were any injuries he’d missed in his initial observation. Finding nothing but a forming headache and tension he figured he might as well heal it and said “May I?”. Seeing a brief nod he let the magic surge through the body in front of him and was pleased to see a more relaxed stance, and the grasp on his hands loosened slightly.

Brimming with curiosity he quickly led the mage inside the cabin and sat him down in the same spot he himself had occupied for most of the evening. His hand was let go in favour of his notes and he was momentarily concerned as fingers ran across the text until he realised that the mage was following the letters in such a way that meant he most likely couldn’t read them.  
  
He still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of having his notes potentially read but couldn’t snatch them away without it appearing suspicious. Instead he poured some of the drinking water he kept inside into a pot and heated it with a simple spell. Looking around for something to add to the water that wasn’t poisonous or had an off-putting taste he ended up throwing in some elfroot. Giving it a few moments to steep before straining he poured it into a cup, put it down on the table and moved his notes.  
  
When the cup wasn’t touched he added “You should drink the tea. It will help”. No point in wasting resources even if he’d had an ulterior motive in making it in the first place. 

After a few small sips he could tell that the mage was more relaxed and he remained standing by the bookshelf where he’d placed the text. As the only chair in the cabin was now taken he wasn’t sure where to position himself. Standing too close to the human might appear like he was looming and sitting down on his bed meant the distance between them might be too great. 

As he stood there he heard the mage trying to speak “I… it... “ and he sat down by the side of the chair after some hesitation, and asked “What happened?”. Appearing non-threatening was probably the best way of ensuring he got some answers. 

The words “She was there but it wasn’t her” didn’t make much sense however. Who was she? Had something happened to Lavellan? “I should have known. I killed her”. Not the Herald then, as Solas could still sense the mark that connected her to his foci. 

Feeling like he had too little information to make any conclusions Solas watched the mage took a few more sips of the weak elfroot tea and turned to him and said “I didn’t mean for it to happen”. To Solas it was apparent that whatever had happened there was a lot of guilt involved but without knowing much more it was impossible to piece together. Had the mage killed someone in Haven?

Having since long understood the effectiveness of not responding when gathering information he kept silent and waiting for the words that would surely follow. “In the future. We wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me”.

Suddenly everything clicked into place. The human was referring to the future in Redcliffe that Lavellan had told him about in broad terms after the party had arrived back in Haven. She didn’t seem too shaken but then again she hadn’t been the one to research the magic, unlike the mage in front of him. Most likely the guilt expressed was drawn from the researched used to ruin the world in a way unimaginable when it was conducted. Solas found himself with a sliver of pity for the mage as he was reminded of his own failures.

It also made the comments about someone the human claimed to have killed a bit easier to explain. They only met three women in the future according to Lavellan and Cassandra was ruled out as they’d travelled together from Redcliffe and the human seemed fine, if a bit absent-minded. That left the leader of the mage rebellion and the spymaster.

Had seeing one of them again triggered the emotional response? It was possible that the mage had been in Redcliffe a lot longer than he claimed and had come to know the circle mage better than expected. It was also possible that that the spymaster had employed a more intimate method of collecting knowledge. It wasn’t a far fetched theory as the human was objectively beautiful. Perhaps the lover of either women, or both?  
  
Words whispered into the ear of either could prove an advantage if cultivated right and that made the mage more useful than he initially though. Placing a comforting hand on the knee closest he said “Da’len, you are not responsible for the actions of others”. The human just shook his head and put one hand on top of Solas’ and he added “You couldn’t have known what would happen”.

The contact was promising even though he was given another shake of the head as it meant the other sought comfort in him. If he wanted to be successful at gaining another resource he’d have to make sure the mage looked to him for either comfort or wisdom.

Seeing the tears gathered in the mage eyes he took a chance and raised himself to his knees and placed his other hand on a shoulder. “You managed to return here. Without you we would all be lost”. 

He however didn’t expect to suddenly find himself with the human flushed against him and face buried in the crook of his neck. Momentarily lost as how to proceed he cautiously embraced the other.  
  
He wasn’t sure what to think about it but as he felt the heat of the body and sensed the way the other’s magic reached for him like a child’s might he involuntarily tightened his arms. As the man started to sobb once more found himself saying a quiet “Oh, da’len” and began running his fingers through Dorian’s hair as he continued to say comforting phrases in Elvhen. 

Their current position was quite uncomfortable though as he had ended up with Dorian half draped over his lap. After sitting on the floor long enough for his legs to protest he shifted to allow him to pick up the other man and felt an odd mix of pleasure and guilt as he was met with a sound of protest when he momentarily let go of the other.

Picking him up with both of Dorian’s legs over one arm and the other supporting his back he made his way towards the bed and sat down on the edge. The mage had calmed down somewhat by that point and Solas ended up shifting backwards to close the narrow gap between his back and the wall.  
  
Without much thought he began running his fingers though the short hair at the back of Dorian’s head. He was almost certain that the man was about to fall asleep when he heard him ask “Will you tell me about the people here?”. Not sure why he was asking Solas hummed but started sharing small unimportant observations about those he’d come across since his time in Haven.  
  
Once he was sure Dorian had truly fallen asleep he quietly contemplated their position. This certainly wasn’t how he’d imagined his day ending, but he couldn’t deny that the contact felt quite nice. It was the closest he had been to another person since waking up from uthenera and the thought of letting go made a cold sensation spread inside his chest. Swallowing to ease his suddenly dry throat he carefully laid Dorian down on the bed and after a short breath he laid down beside him. Hugging the other close to him he followed him into sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas be solasing.


	6. Morning

Dorian seemingly floated on the verge between dreams and awareness in a warm haze before he realised he wasn’t alone. There was an arm slung around his waist and a steady breath at the nape of his neck that instantly woke him up. With his eyes still closed and feigning sleep he tried to recall the evening but found that large pieces of it was missing from his memory, and the parts he recalled made little sense.

He remembered the Camille’s screams and the feeling of snow on the ground. How her blood had turned the ground from white to red and no, that wasn’t right. It had been close to Summerday and it had been long since there was any snow on the ground.

All at once the memories hit him and he tensed involuntarily as he understood who was pressed against his back. What had happened after he left the tavern was still not fully clear but he remember having some sort of vision of the past, sitting in the snow and then clinging to Solas. Remembering how he’d cried on the shoulder of the man and practically begged him for stories like a child made Dorian flush with mortification.

The shame however quickly turned into terror when he realised that he didn’t know what was said before that. He had a distinct feeling he wanted to tell Solas about the past, and doing so. So why wasn’t he dead? Why had the apostate allowed someone who knew his true identity to live?

Opening his eyes slowly Dorian confirmed that he was indeed both in Solas’ cabin and the arm around him belonged to said elf. Taking a few calming breaths he began his plan of easing out of the bed and leaving the sleeping man behind only to be pulled back. 

As Solas tightened his grip and nuzzled the side of his neck Dorian got a sinking feeling that he was being toyed with. A trickle of fear ran down his spine as he imagined the sharp teeth sinking into his throat in a parody of a lovers kiss. Since he was still alive the only conclusion he could reach was that either he was in for a slow and painful death or Solas thought him useful, or both. 

Considering his chances of getting out of the cabin without the god’s permission were slim Dorian felt much like prey caught in the jaws of a wolf. His only hope was that he’d be kept alive long enough to convince the other that he was worth more alive than dead. He knew that his knowledge of the future was something that should be of interest but what if it wasn’t enough of a temptation to outweigh the risks of letting him live? 

If his mind wasn’t enough the only thing left was his body and considering where he was and the semi-hardness he could feel pressed against him it was not too far-fetched. Solas could still kill him afterwards, and Dorian wasn’t sure he could ignore the way fear made his heart race to fake any enthusiasm. 

In the future Lavellan had bitterly told him that she and Solas had never had sex despite what everyone believed and that she should have realised it was the anchor that interested the other elf and not her. Or, Dorian thought in a panic, the wolf wanted his prey to fear him. To bleed and beg for mercy that would never come. 

The realisation that there was nothing he could do but rely on the benevolence of someone who had the blood of thousands on his hands was not a welcomed one. Trying to wiggle away he let out a terrified whimper when he was once more dragged back. 

A whispered “Please” made it past Dorian’s lips “please let me go”. Getting no reaction he tried a bit louder “Solas, please”. 

That at least got him a reaction as the other sighed and the grip around him loosened as Solas trailed his hand across Dorian’s stomach. Seeing his chance to make a run for it Dorian did the only thing that made sense at the time and threw his elbow as hard as he could into the other man’s ribs.  
  
Before he made it out of the bed however he was grasped by back of his head and shoved face down into the mattress. One of his arms got trapped between his own body and the bed as Solas put his full weight on top of him, and the other one was caught at the wrist and painfully forced down by his head. Whatever thoughts he’d had about what could happen to him quickly gave way to panic when he realised he couldn’t breath.

Suddenly however he was let go and Solas eased off him as Dorian turned his head to the side in a daze and took a shaky breath. Dorian was already regretting not playing along with whatever game this was and simply stayed in the position he’d been left in while trying to calm himself down. 

For a moment there were no movement coming from either of them until Solas sighed, and softly said “My apologies”. Feeling lost as to the shift Dorian carefully turned around and slowly sat up to face the mage. Solas was pressing his hand to his own side and was seemingly studying Dorian with an indecipherable look.   
  
Not knowing what to say Dorian settled for looking away and gingerly felt the back of his head. His wrist throbbed but it was nothing compared to the fire he felt across his scalp and winced as his fingertips came in contact with what felt like huge gouches.  
  
Solas must have seen his wince as he asked “Did I harm you?” in the same soft voice he’d used before. 

The soft spoken words seemed so out of place at the moment and for some reason it made Dorian want to dig his fingers into the elf’s throat and tear until there was nothing left. Bringing his hand in front of him he shot Solas a dark look as he saw the red on his fingertips. 

Solas at least had the courtesy of looking guilty, and no matter if it was real or not it brought a sick sense of satisfaction to Dorian.   
  
“Forgive me, it was not my intention to” began the elf but Dorian interrupted him “What? Not your intention to harm me?”. Before Solas could say anything he continued on with “It’s not like I can stop you, you can do whatever you want. So what is it? You want me cry?”.  
  
“No, I” the other began to say with a furrowed brow but Dorian didn’t let him finish. “No? Perhaps you want me to beg then. Beg for you, or beg for you to stop as you use me? Is that it Solas?” Receiving nothing but a horrified look and a whispered “no” Dorian closed the distance between them and whispered “Do you want to fuck me Solas? Do you want to make me bleed as you” 

He never got the rest of the words out as Solas clamped a hand over his mouth and said “Please, stop”. Glaring at him Dorian had the urge to bite down on the fingers blocking his mouth but the look on the apostate’s face stopped him. He looked shocked and Dorian realised that he might have gone too far. 

Slowly removing his hand from Dorian’s face Solas whispered “I would never” and then a bit louder “I would never force myself on anyone”. When Dorian didn’t answer he continued with “Please, I thought you were trying to kill me. I don’t usually wake up to someone punching me”.  
  
Feeling ashamed for his outburst Dorian couldn’t meet his eyes anymore and ended up looking at the hollow of Solas throat with a mumbled “elbowed, not punched”.

“Why?”. Swallowing around the lump in his throat Dorian began to explain in a small voice “you were... holding me down. I couldn’t get up and… you were… you didn’t let go”. Still looking at the same spot he saw Solas throat move as the elf said “I’m sorry, I truly didn’t mean to make you feel unsafe” and after a short pause asked “has anyone here harmed you?”

Dorian shook his head and moved away from Solas to get out of the bed. When his feet hit the ground he paused and said “no one here no. It was many years ago” before moving to get up. 

Before he could make it more than halfway to the door he heard Solas say “wait! Let me heal you before you go”. “It’s not necessary” he answered but Solas followed up with a “please, it would make me feel a lot better knowing that you’re not hurting throughout the day” and Dorian found himself nodding.

Looking at Solas sitting on the bed he began to make his way back but stopped after a step and gently shook his head. While his head was hurting quite a bit at this point and the logical part of him agreed that healing it as soon as possible was good, and the sadistic part of him wanted Solas to see what he’d done, a cold feeling took root in his stomach at the thought of going back to the bed. 

“Perhaps the chair by the table?” Solas suggested, as if he’d read Dorian’s mind. Making his way over to the table Dorian sat down and looked at the teacup still there. He had a vague memory that he’d been drinking out of it last night. The cup was still half full and he resisted the urge to pick it up and smell the tea to see if it smelled of the elfroot he recalled tasting. 

As Solas parted his hair to see the damage done he said in a lighter tone “do I still have hair?” The elf just sighed and answered “Yes da’len, but I scratched you badly when I grabbed your hair. I’ll have to clean it before healing”.  
For all the strength he’d used when inflicting the wounds in the first place the man was surprisingly gentle as he dabbed at and healed them one by one. Once his head had been thoroughly checked over his wrist was the next to receive attention.  
  
Solas seemed to make it his mission to heal every bruise and scrape Dorian had accumulated over the last few days but he shot the elf a questioning look when a wet cloth was tenderly moved over his cheeks. “Your kohl was a bit untidy” he got as an explanation and Dorian flushed when he realised he probably had tear tracks running down his face from the night before “Oh”. 

“No need to be embarrassed da’len. We all cry at times”. Quirking an eyebrow Dorian said in a teasing manner “even you?”. Solas just flicked the end of Dorian’s mustache in return and started to collect the healing supplies that had been laid out on the table. 

When Dorian stood up to leave he observed the elf for a short time and pondered upon the shift in their relationship. In the past Solas had certainly never called him da’len, a word seemingly reserved for the inquisitor. He’d also never touched him, or anyone really, with anything other than the bare minimum required for healing. 

This Solas however had not only spent the night snuggled up to Dorian but also comforted him the night before and begged him not to leave. Or well, begged him to stay long enough to get healed but as far as Dorian was concerned that was almost the same thing. Was it possible that the Dread Wolf, destroyer of the world, was lonely?

No matter what it was a way in for Dorian and wanting to see what kind of reaction he’d get he said “Solas?”. As the elf turned around he closed the distance between them and hugged him “thank you for everything. I’m sorry I repaid your kindness by hurting you”.

Solas didn’t seem to know how to react but after a few seconds he put his arms around the other mage and seemingly melted into the hug. A muted “you're welcome” made its way to Dorian and he slowly let go and made his way to the door.

With a hand on the handle he turned around to give Solas a small smile. The elf was still standing by the table looking lost and Dorian felt something akin to pity for him. Upon opening the door and seeing that it was earlier than he thought he lightly said “you should get some sleep, it’s still dark outside” and left with smile.

Walking through the crisp air to his own cabin he was pleased to find that maybe, just maybe, he now had something of a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is officially 30 years old at the start or DA:I but I'm going with the common version found in a lot of fanfiction which is somewhere between 20-24 years old.
> 
> Also it took a lot longer for me to post this than planned but don't worry, I haven't abandoned the fic.


	7. Honey

Dorian’s good mood lasted almost the entire morning. He’d been unable to return to sleep on his own and spent the time going through what he remembered about Solas attitude towards the others in the Inquisition. 

The only one he seemingly sought the company of had been Lavellan, and yet the two of them hadn’t actually spend a lot of time together. Surprisingly Josephine found herself in a similar category. Of course most people adored the ambassador and while that may be taking it a bit too far in this case he had been kinder to her than to many others, less biting answers and fewer sharp comments. 

He had joked with Varric and played mental chess with Bull while on the road but as far as Dorian knew they didn’t interact much otherwise. Cole he honestly wasn’t sure of. Solas had seemed to enjoy his company but it was hard for Dorian to think of any time the two of them were together when not travelling. Unsurprisingly he also couldn’t recall ever seeing Leliana and Solas together at length. 

It was a lot easier to list the ones he knew for sure Solas disliked. Vivienne was most likely on top of the list judging from the barbs they threw at each other constantly and Sera seemed to annoy him to no end. Cullen, Cassandra and Blackwall had been treated with respect but Dorian had not missed the way Solas would look at them with contempt when he thought no one was looking, as if they repulsed him. 

Unfortunately Dorian himself had probably been on the dislike list. He knew he had annoyed the elf and whenever they were forced to work together he gleefully prodded and pushed at him. It had become a game of sort for Dorian, to see just how far he could take it until the other snapped. 

There had been times where he’d seen something dark and dangerous lurking in Solas’ eyes but the man had never acted on it. Now he was quite sure that the only thing that stopped him from being ripped to shreds in the library by an enraged elf was said elf’s plans to remain undercover, but back then he had thought him too dull.

He’d never truly been interested in Solas but there had been rare evenings in his room at Skyhold where he’d thought of that look and imagined the elf pressing him down on the nearest surface and fucking him hard. On occasion he’d even envisioned himself on his knees and choking on Solas’ cock as the man taunted him with cruel words and wicked promises.

They’d been good fantasies at the time but now they made Dorian uneasy. His own reaction upon awakening proved that fantasy and reality were far from each other but it was also a testament to how out of his depth he was. Once he might have tried to seduce the other but now the thought terrified him. 

His doubts grew with the morning light and by the time he was ready to face the day he was quite sure he’d made a fool of himself. While embarrassing it did mean he had a sound reason for seeking Solas out later. 

He didn’t feel guilt for hitting him, after all he’d been responsible for causing the events which lead to Dorian’s discomfort in the first place. However if he wanted to gain his trust he’d have to at least act like he wished him well. 

Part of him was aware that this Solas had yet to bring down the veil but the anger he felt wasn’t quite so easy to dissuade. There was also the matter of the breach which he knew the elf was involved in creating somehow. Lavellan never spoke of it in detail but she’d told him shortly before dying that the orb Corypheus carried had belonged to Solas.

Putting the few pieces he had together it seemed like the orb had been stolen, and unintentionally put a hold on the elf’s plan. With a dark sense of humour he wondered what would happen to him if he sent Corypheus a thank you card. 

* * *

Most of the day passed while Dorian was taking stock of the chantry library. It was as abysmal as he remembered but there was no way for him to dismiss it without looking like he wasn’t there to help. Perhaps he could shift his focus to something more worthwhile when he’d made it apparent that the chantry books were useless for stopping the breach, in fact the texts would be put to better use being thrown at the demons than read. 

Every so often he’d caught the chantry sisters looking at him disapprovingly but they didn’t interfere so Dorian was all too happy to ignore them. What perplexed him though was the servants who would take a peek at him while flitting in and out of the room to seemingly do nothing. He’d been prepared for hostility but they almost seemed curious, two of them even whispering back and forth while giggling as they left. Most of them hadn’t stopped spitting in his food until after Haven was destroyed the first time around. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn their favour. There were no pity directed his way so they couldn’t have seen him run from the tavern in terror the previous night. Regardless it was a nice change and he made sure to smile and acknowledge every one he crossed paths with on his way to see the ambassador. 

Catching the door as a messenger left her office he took in the state of the desk and the woman behind it. While immaculately dressed she looked more tired than he remembered as she scribbled something on a piece of parchment. 

“Ambassador Montilyet, may I have a moment of your time?”. She gave him an easy smile and beckoned him inside with a nod “Altus Pavus. Always a pleasure”.   
  
A few pleasantries later and they both asked the other to call them by name and he’d reassured her that he greatly appreciated his assigned cabin. The conversation soon turned to what he’d learned from the library, or rather what he hadn’t learned. 

“Unfortunately there is little in the way of books on the veil or the fade” he said and added a lighthearted “perhaps my talents are better spent in another capacity” before Josephine could make an offer to order more books. They’d be lost when the avalanche hit anyway.

“I was thinking that perhaps I can look into strengthening the defenses of Haven, with the Commander’s permission of course”. At his words she nodded with something akin to relief and said “I’m sure the Commander will welcome any assistance”. 

“I will speak to him first thing in the morning then”. As overworked as she was she was probably pleased that she wasn’t the one who’d have to find him something to do.

As Dorian was about to take his leave a thought occurred to him. “I hope it’s not an inconvenience but do you perhaps know where I can purchase something sweet?”. 

His hope was dashed though as she said “Unfortunately not, trade has been greatly impacted as you can surely imagine. I’m sure we can order something for you if you are so inclined?”. It was fairly obvious to Dorian that he was supposed to decline but instead he found himself saying “Ah, I see. I was hoping to gift it to someone”.

At this Josephine immediately looked more intrigued “Oh?”. “I’m sure I can think of something else, it was probably too much anyway” he said with a small laugh. The Antivan looked possibly giddy “Did a young maiden catch your eye perhaps?”.

Dorian tried and failed to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching up at the thought of the stern elf described as a young maiden. “Not as such, no” he answered but Josephine wasn’t deterred and immediately went and got something from a large ornate chest.

When she returned she handed him a small jar filled with an amber liquid. “It’s honey. I’ve been meaning to open it myself but this is a much better use for it”. She wouldn’t entertain any of his protests on how he couldn’t possibly accept and he soon found himself saying his goodbyes with the jar grasped between his hands.    
  


* * *

For the rest of the evening he kept an eye out for Solas but the man didn’t show himself anywhere near Dorian. After taking his evening meal at the tavern he headed for his own cabin. 

Setting down the honey on the only table there was he decided to seek out the elf tomorrow and give it to him. If he remembered correctly the other was quite fond of sweet things and hopefully it would serve as something to warm him up to Dorian, along with the apology. 

As he was getting ready for bed his eyes were constantly drawn back to the jar though and after finding himself looking at it for what felt like the hundredth time he swore. Already having changed into a tunic for sleep he slipped into the same breeches he’d worn during the day. After muttering to himself while fastening his boots he took a quick look at himself and deemed it good enough, took the jar and stormed over to Solas’s door.

Before he could second-guess himself he knocked on the door. When the door didn’t open after a short moment he frowned and knocked again. Was the bastard even home?   
  
Getting increasingly frustrated he glared at the door but when it didn’t move to reveal it’s inhabitant he instead felt ridiculous. Raising his hand to knock on last time he ended up with it poised in the air before slowly lowering it. Solas was either not home, or asleep.

Turning around to head back he startled when he saw Solas standing by the side of the cabin silently watching him. How long had he been there? He’d have to rescue the situation somehow.

Regrettably the only thing that made it passed Dorian’s lips where “Eh, fancy meeting you here”. 

He could feel his face heating up as Solas simply continued to watch him. Fortunately the elf seemed to find it humorous and suppressed a smile while moving towards him. Trying not to fidget Dorian just stayed where he was as Solas opened the door and gestured to the inside “You better come inside”.

And so Dorian found himself inside the wolf’s den for the second time that day. 


End file.
